There are lots of things to find 'alive' at a cemetery. The other afternoon at Evergreen, as the sun began its creep behind the tall pines, I came upon some open water at one of the small ponds and a bunch of ducks paddling about. Now, while a group of ducks in flight is called a flock, on water or land they can be referred to as a brace, a raft, a team, a flock or even a paddling. That last one is pretty cool, a paddling! As some of you might know, I worked at this cemetery summers through my high school and college years. One my jobs, while riding shotgun with the cemetery foreman Herbie, was feeding the ducks. During the summer months, the city would drag out to the island on the big pond a duckhouse and release a paddling of white ducks, about 20 or so. They needed food each day, and that's where I came in. I'd load up two buckets of duck food stored in the shed, and we'd head out to the pond. There were a few wild ducks like these that got to the food, but summers they were mostly of the white variety. When I drove up the other day, they were all huddled about on the water, but hurriedly made a bee-line for my truck as soon as I stopped. They must have recognized me. Their approach was loud and vigorous. Without food, there was no way I was stepping onto that snow. Just Ducky!